Chapter 2: There’s a Foreign Guy Stuck to Your Back (1)
On the stage.
Hidden behind a curtain of hazy smoke, barely visible.
The orchestra’s magnificent accompaniment began.
“Huh? This is my favorite song.”
It was the opera aria “Nessun Dorma” from the opera Turandot.
The lyrical, oriental-style orchestral introduction at the beginning always made Jinwoo’s heart race.
“Who is that?”
At last, the man on stage sang his first note.
“Nessun dorma.”
(None shall sleep.)
The moment Jinwoo heard the opening line, goosebumps covered his entire body.
“What… is this voice?”
Until now, Jinwoo had believed Enrico Luci possessed the greatest voice a human being could ever have.
“But there’s someone even greater. Right in front of me.”
He knew from just that single note.
The man before him was a vocalist far superior to the legendary tenor Luci.
A one-of-a-kind tenor unlike any that had ever existed in the entire history of opera.
“Who on earth is he?”
Jinwoo stepped closer to the stage to get a better look.
But the closer he got, the quieter the man’s voice became.
He leaned in, trying to hear him more clearly.
“…Wake…”
“Huh?”
“I said wake up, you little punk.”
“Ahhh!”
Jinwoo jerked awake in fright.
The first thing he saw after opening his eyes…
…was that ghost from before.
“I said wake up, you little punk.”
His whole body froze.
So I wasn’t imagining things.
He’s really a ghost.
Jinwoo sprang to his feet.
The ghost stared at him from close range with a fascinated look.
“So you really can see me.”
Just then, Lee Chaehwan shouted to the students.
“Alright, everyone! Get on the bus! Hurry up!”
Jinwoo immediately headed toward the exit of La Scala.
“H-Huh…? What’s wrong with my body? Hey, wait!”
The ghost hurried after him, calling anxiously.
“Hey! Stop for a second!”
But Jinwoo had only one thought.
I have to get out of here.
He almost broke into a run as he rushed toward the theater’s entrance.
The closer he got to the exit, the more desperate the ghost sounded.
“Hey! Seriously, stop! Calm down first, damn it!”
The string of curses finally made Jinwoo stop in his tracks.
Something’s strange.
That ghost has been speaking Italian this whole time… so how can I understand him?
His curiosity became stronger than his fear.
Carefully, Jinwoo spoke.
“Um… can you understand what I’m saying?”
“Of course I can. Why wouldn’t I—”
The ghost suddenly stopped mid-sentence, looking confused.
“Wait a second. This is weird. You’re obviously not speaking Italian, so how can I understand you?”
“What on earth is going on? Why can I suddenly understand Italian even though I’ve never learned it?”
“I should be asking the same thing. More importantly, how can you even see me?”
“I don’t know.”
Jinwoo let out a deep sigh before speaking again.
“So… you’re Leonard Paul, an opera singer who lived a hundred years ago?”
“That’s right.”
“And you’ve been trapped in La Scala because of its curse?”
“Exactly.”
“Then that’s settled. You stay here, and I’ll go my own way.”
“Damn it, were you listening to anything I said? I told you our bodies seem to be connected now. I can only follow you!”
Paul straightened his posture and spoke seriously.
“Something’s definitely gone wrong. Until we figure it out, don’t move from here.”
“Were you listening to me? I told you I have to leave.”
“I said you can’t.”
Paul had been trapped inside La Scala for nearly a hundred years.
Did anyone think he had never tried escaping?
Of course he had.
But eventually he gave up.
Every time he tried to leave the theater, unbearable pain, worse than anything he had ever experienced while alive, consumed his entire body.
Just remembering it made him shiver.
“Anyway, as long as we’re connected, you absolutely can’t leave. Got it?”
At that moment, Lee Chaehwan roughly opened the door.
“Yoo Jinwoo! What the hell are you doing in here? Didn’t I tell you to get on the bus?”
“Yes, sir. I’m coming.”
Jinwoo hurriedly turned to Paul.
“I feel bad for your situation, Mister, but my flight back to Korea is today. Sorry.”
He squeezed his eyes shut and ran straight toward the theater entrance.
“H-Hey! Stop! Stop, you little—!”
The moment Jinwoo burst out through La Scala’s doors—
“Ahhh! Help!”
Once outside, Jinwoo slowly opened his eyes.
“…Huh? Nothing happened.”
Paul, who had been dragged out with him, cautiously opened his eyes as well.
“How… is this possible?”
For almost a hundred years, La Scala had never allowed Paul to escape.
Yet this time…
…it had let him go so easily.
Jinwoo, who had been terrified because of Paul’s dramatic warnings, let out a relieved sigh.
Just then, something caught his foot.
“Huh? It’s the notebook I picked up yesterday.”
He picked it up and slipped it back into his inner pocket.
Paul’s eyes widened the moment he saw it.
That notebook…
He recognized it instantly.
It was the notebook his teacher, Viotti, had once given him.
“Hey! Where did you get that notebook?”
“I found it buried near the front entrance.”
Paul stared at the notebook thoughtfully.
Could it be… the thing keeping me trapped wasn’t La Scala… but that notebook?
Then maybe the reason he can see and talk to me is because of it too…
After thinking for a while, he roughly ruffled his hair.
“Ah, whatever. My head hurts.”
“Who cares?”
“The important thing is that I’m finally out of that damned place.”
Paul closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
“How long has it been since I’ve breathed fresh air? Ah… this is wonderful.”
On the bus, Jinwoo searched through his bag without saying a word and put in his earphones.
“I finally did it. I really did it. I escaped that miserable place.”
Paul kept shouting excitedly.
Jinwoo glanced at him before turning his troubled gaze toward the window.
What in the world is happening to me?
“Jinwoo.”
Waiting for him at the airport was his mother.
“Mom? Why are you here? What about work?”
“I took time off.”
“Why?”
She carefully examined him from head to toe.
“Your teacher called me.”
“He said you collapsed.”
When Jinwoo had fainted at La Scala, Lee Chaehwan must have contacted her.
“I’m fine.”
“You are not. Come with me.”
Despite Jinwoo’s large build, his mother grabbed his hand and pulled him along.
Sizzle…
Pork belly crackled deliciously on the grill.
As though nothing serious had happened, Jinwoo’s mother wrapped a piece of grilled pork in lettuce and held it out in front of him.
“Come on. Open your mouth.”
“Don’t think about anything. Just eat.”
Jinwoo kept his eyes fixed on the table, looking uncomfortable.
“Jinwoo.”
He looked up at the sound of her voice.
“Let’s quit singing.”
His eyes widened.
“What? Where did that come from?”
His mother’s sudden words shocked him.
“You getting into Seowoon Arts High School?”
“I don’t regret that at all.”
“So what if you don’t become an opera singer?”
“I just want you to do something you enjoy.”
Jinwoo answered quietly.
“I really love singing.”
“You know that better than anyone.”
“Listen to me!”
“Quit singing!”
Her sudden shout startled him.
“With your body, how can you keep singing?”
“Do you know how many times you’ve collapsed this year?”
“You collapsed again during your trip to Italy.”
“That’s already the fourth time.”
“But when I collapsed in Italy…”
He couldn’t finish the sentence.
Even if he explained it, she’d think he was crazy.
How could he tell her it was because of the ghost happily floating beside him?
“I should’ve stopped you from pursuing opera.”
“I knew your body was weak.”
“But because you wanted it so badly, I let you.”
“I’m the fool.”
His mother hit her own chest as she blamed herself.
Jinwoo had always been sickly as a child.
Things had improved a little in middle school, but after he suddenly gained a lot of weight, his health worsened again.
“Your teacher said…”
“…maybe you should stop studying opera.”
“He said it doesn’t seem like you have any talent.”
At that moment…
Jinwoo hated himself because he couldn’t confidently deny it.
Because it was true.
Ever since his father abandoned the family when he was little, his mother had worked countless jobs just to raise him.
He already knew that after he entered Seowoon Arts High School, she had even taken a part-time job at a restaurant.
Should I really give up singing?
No one loved singing more than Jinwoo.
But faced with reality, even he couldn’t help hesitating.
“When you’re done eating, let’s go.”
As soon as they left the restaurant, his mother hailed a taxi.
“Please take us to Bongcheon-dong.”
“Aren’t we going home?”
“Just come with me.”
Watching quietly from the side, Paul looked at Jinwoo with growing interest.
Hmm… so this kid studies opera?
His eyes sparkled as if he had just found a very entertaining toy.
After getting out of the taxi, Jinwoo’s mother led him through a maze of old alleyways before stopping in front of a building with a large red sign.
Seonhwa Shrine
“A fortune-teller’s place?”
“Yes. Let’s go in.”
“Mom, what century are we living in? Fortune-telling?”
“They said you keep collapsing because a ghost is attached to you.”
“Ghosts? That’s just superstition!”
“It was really hard to get an appointment here.”
“They say this shaman is incredibly accurate, so stop complaining and come.”
Slide.
The door opened, and a woman wearing heavy makeup stepped outside.
“Do you have a reservation?”
“Yes. Under the name Lee Sunyoung.”
“Please come in.”
Once inside, the woman handed Jinwoo’s mother a slip of paper.
“Payment is required in advance.”
“Please transfer 2 million won to this account, and we’ll take you to the Master.”
Jinwoo was stunned by the outrageous price.
His mother ignored him and immediately transferred the money.
Keeping his voice low, Jinwoo whispered,
“Mom, I don’t think this is right.”
“It’s way too expensive.”
“Two million won? That’s ridiculous.”
His mother secretly pinched his thigh.
“Ow!”
Clenching her teeth, she whispered,
“Please keep your mouth shut.”
“If the Master hears you, he’ll be offended.”
Forcing a smile, she showed the transfer confirmation on her phone.
“The payment has been sent.”
“This way, please.”
Inside the room sat a woman in a hanbok with heavy eye makeup and neatly tied-up hair.
The shaman glanced at Jinwoo and his mother.
“You’ve come because of your son.”
“Oh my!”
“How did you know?”
“I heard you were amazing, and it’s true.”
“Yes, we’re here because of my son.”
Jinwoo scoffed inwardly.
Seriously?
A mother and son walk in together. Obviously they’re here because of the son.
What’s so impressive about that?
The shaman shot Jinwoo a sharp look.
Then she slowly spoke.
“Yes… no wonder you’re worried.”
“Your son came here with a foreign man riding on his back.”
